


If Abigail...

by Sept_Meules



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abigail-centric, Blood, Dark Abigail, Violent sorta fix-it fic, You will hate me if you aren't open minded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sept_Meules/pseuds/Sept_Meules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'what-if' situation since I think Abigail's part isn't justified enough in the fandom by having small to no Abigail-centric stories. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Abigail...

**Author's Note:**

> Story spoiler: Ghost... whoooo~~

Abigail closes her eyes as she dunks herself in the depths of the lavender-scented water in the crystal white bathtub of her paternal guardian's mansion of a house. Dr. Hannibal Lecter has been so good to her, keeping her safe and sound from the outside world, from the blood and gore and war that corrupts a child's mind by showing Abigail these things first hand under strict supervision. That's why Hannibal had placed a carving knife in her trembling hands and a determined look from Hanninal she was sure mirrored her late father's murderous look as he took Abigail and held a knife against her neck. Will Graham was trembling in his shoes when he pointed his gun at Garett Jacob Hobbs. 

She breathes, inhales, her lungs and chest expanding as lavander-scented air entered her nose. If it wasn't for Will, the Minnesota Shrike will diminish the female collegiate populace and force their families to keep them homeschooled. 

After awhile. she slides under the water for a while, looking up from her position at the white ceiling above. Nothing interesting. 

She wonders how long it would take for her lungs to burst if she doesn't come up to breathe. It would feel rewarding even if she were to be in the point of death. To stop all the madness going around her. What better solution than to stop the alibi of the cause of the problem? She very well knows that Hannibal allows Will to keep blaming himself for Abigail's mirage of a death. But truth be told, Abigail is sensing that Hannibal's becoming finicky recently. The FBI must be on to him. And that would be the start of a great chess game: as Jack Crawford would be cheating and everyone will overlook it. Will Graham is his most powerful piece and also most important. While Hannibal would mask himself as the King and use Abigail as his Queen, when actually Abigail could only step on one square at a time. 

She gasps rather loudly as she emerged from the water. The water around her feeling like the blood of Hannibal Lecter's victims, and Abigail could not help but feel like hers is mixing with theirs. 

'Abigail, Abigail, Abigail....'

_Fortunatissimo per verita!_  
Bravo!   
La la la la la la la LA!   
Fortunatissimo per verita!   
Fortunatissimo per verita!   
La la la la, la la la la, la la la la la la la LA! 

'Abigail...'

Abigail shut her eyes close. Hannibal must have put on the gramaphone. 

'Abigail...'

What is that voice?

She digs into her mind and remembers her mum. She remembers her 5 year old self running into the kitchen smiling brightly up at her mum. She would pull herself up with her chubby fingers on the counter as she watch Mum frisk together the egg whites and yolks. Mum would smile down at her, "Do you know what I'm making, Abigail?" "Cookies!" Abigail exclaims in her childish voice, then giggles. 

'Abigail...'

She rose up from the tub, water splashing against the white crystal as she disrupted the small ripples. She pushes her dripping hair back from her forehead and wears her cotton bathrobe. 

_Rasori e pettini_  
Lancette e forbici,   
Al mio comando  
Tutto qui sta.  
Rasori e pettini  
Lancette e forbici,   
Al mio comando  
Tutto qui sta. 

She quietly leaves the bathroom and threads toward her room. In there, she chooses her favourite sweater and her comfortable jeans. Then takes the wooden bat leaning on the inside wall of her closet and slings it behind her, and gets the sterling silver gutting knife she confiscated from Hannibal's basement, knowing it served much 'nobler' purpose. 

_Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere (che bel_  
Piacere)  
Per un barbiere di qualita! (di qualita! ) 

With the bat secured on her shoulder, and the gutting knife grasped in her hand, she made her way downstairs where Hannibal was preparing dinner. She isn't sure if he's expecting someone, but she sure knows he isn't expecting her. 

Standing a foot right behind him with just her bare feet on the kitchen floor, Hannibal must be very focused on this dish. 

And she was almost sorry she has to break the attention. 

'Abigail...'

"Hannibal." She says out loud, her tone undecipherable. 

"Yes, Abigail?" He asks so courteously, Abigail knows is just his manners not what he truly is. 

As he turned on his heels facing her, she shoved the silver gutting knife against his clean white oxford shirt, against his skin and into his body. With a push of the blade, Abigail instantly knew that she already 'captured the king'. Ending all this mindplay commotion, ending Alana's pseudo-erotic relationship and Will's mindfuckery with the one and only Hannibal Lecter. 

Huh. Who knew the queen could turn against her own king. 

Life is fair. You bend rules to live. Abigail knows that now as she steps back and watch Hannibal fall down in defeat, his shirt turning to red. 

_Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere (che bel_  
Piacere)  
Per un barbiere di qualita! (di qualita! ) 

She doesn't get down on her knees to see down his level, he does it for her, turning his neck upward and wonder how Abigail could have defy him and become somewhat rebelious all of a sudden. 

"A toast, for the birth of newfound courage." She says in a tone that would have been in par with Hannibal's eloquence, raising the glass of wine beside the dish Hannibal was preparing. She smells it then puts it back where it was placed. 

She looks back down at Hannibal once again, "Speak, I am fairly sure that it will be your last."

"How--"

"Louise Hobbs, you remember her?" She asks, going around the kitchen island, dodging the blood pooling around Hannibal. Eyes scanning at all the pots and pans in the cupboards and those hanging, she stops at a glasscase containing few of the china Hannibal uses for any small dinners he throws. "She's my mum. No one really cares what happened to her. She's just the Minnesota Shrike's wife. But she's important, to me at least." She opened the glass case with ease. "She's been whispering to me, she loves me better, better than my dad at least, better than his A+ parenting." She walks back to watch Hannibal put pressure on his cut. "She makes me cookies. Unlike you, I like cookies more than the hunting trips my dad takes me to." She pauses. Then places the gutting knife in his bloodied hands. "As I said 'for the birth of newfound courage'." She ignores him when he flings the knife from him. 

_Ahime, (ahime) che furia!_  
Ahime, che folla!   
Uno alla volta,   
Per carita! (per carita! per carita! )  
Uno alla volta, uno alla volta,   
Uno alla volta, per carita!  

"Let me be the one to manifest Doubt in your mind, relieve Will of the burden you already bestowed upon him." She pulls her bat from its sling and raises it on her shoulder. 

_Figaro qua, Figaro la, Figaro qua, Figaro la,  
Figaro su, Figaro giu, Figaro su, Figaro giu_

All the glass and porcelain plates in the tier Abigail had easy access to crashed as the bat collided on them. 

The glasscase, the pots and pans, the wine glasses. Crash! Clunk. Floor. 

_Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo;_

After she made a wreck of Hannibal's kitchen as Hannibal made a mess of Abigail's life and Will's. She's pretty sure she's simply returning the favour. 

And he's already gone when she takes a glance down at him. Feeling a bit artistic at the moment, she dipped her finger in Hannibal's blood and wrote 'Bon Appetite' on the kitchen top and adding a considerable size of a heart drawing on the thinly sliced meat in the plate (it looks like overpriced ham). 

She turns to the gramaphone in the corner. 

_Della citta!!!  
La la la la la la la la la!_

She takes the needle off the vinyl and places it on the outer part of the vinyl. 

She stands back and smiles at her design, raising her arms before her to orchestrate, bat resting by the gramaphone's table legs. 

"Shall we start from the beginning?"

With a downbeat, the song begins for the second time. 

_Largo al factotum della citta.  
Largo! La la la la la la la LA! _

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

Will Graham lets himself in Hannibal's office, sensing the distress signals of the odd text message Hannibal has sent. 

"Hannibal? Is everything all right?"

He sees that the swivel chair's back is facing him. And notices an eeriely pale, quite dainty hand put a one-fourth full wine glass on the desk behind. 

Then the chair turns, and Will Graham nearly stopped breathing. 

"Shall we start, Will?"

 

-end-

**Author's Note:**

> God rest ye merry gentlefolk.


End file.
